Inspired by whereiwrite.org. They didn’t ask for this, but I took a photo anyway.
This is where
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Author Archives: Risto
Being Risto Pakarinen
When a baby is born in Finland, it is customary for the godmother (or father) to buy him (or her) a spoon that has the baby’s vital stats engraved in it. At that point in time, the stats are height and weight at birth as well as the date and time of birth.
And – naturally – the name.
Oh, brother
We may all be brothers and sisters, and on some level I kind of like that idea, but, honestly, I just can’t feel it. I’ve never had a friend, or a teammate, that I’d say was “like a brother” to me.
Then again, I’m an only child, so how should I know what it feels like to have a brother.
I never even had an imaginary friend, let alone an imaginary brother.
Sibelius, sauna, and sisu
When I was a small boy living in Finland, my teacher told my class that despite Finnish being a small language with only about five million speakers, there were, in fact, two words that the rest of the world had adopted from us: sauna, and sisu.
For emphasis, that story was then followed by another one about Finnish UN soldiers in the Middle East, and how the first thing they did at their post was to build a sauna.
(For sisu, and sauna, see here.)
Priority one
About nine years and eight months ago, I received an email from a pretty, young lady. The subject of the email was, “I hope you visit this site every day”, with the appropriate link attached to the body of the message.
The link took me to a site which I obviously hadn’t ever visited – the Hunger Site which helps to feed the hungry in Africa – but which I just as obviously visited right then.
Homo sapiens
It’s become painfully obvious to everybody that I am no handyman. I’m not somebody whose idea of having a great time is to disappear into the garage and fix stuff. My idea of a good time is to hang around that person and talk and maybe play ball.
A friend of a friend
There’s this friend of mine. Let’s call him “Alec”, and let’s assume that it’s not his real name. It’s just a random name, with no hidden meanings, no Latin roots, or witty anagrams baked in. It’s just code for this friend of mine.
“Alec” may or may not be Finnish, and he may or may not live in Finland. He could be 20, or he might be 45. Or neither. He’s not one of the Baldwin brothers. Who he is, is not the point.
Maroon submarine
I once saw Ringo Starr up close. I was walking down the street in Rome with my wife, when Mr. Starr came out of a building and crossed the street right in front of us.
Very surprising. I’m not the biggest Beatles fan in the world but I knew that beard, that nose, that look.
This is Joensuu calling
The place where I sit and write this
Is the place where the washing machines used to be
When Dad was the manager of the store
And I always tagged along, like I did when I was four
Or, to be sure, this is where the window used to be
I once decorated it in a christmas theme, with cotton snow and all
I knew those things, I knew what was cool
because I had just got home from the business school
The place where I sit and write this
Is the place where Dad’s buddy stood with a video camera on his shoulder
And shot me and my schoolmates (and I was the Phantom, waving to the crowd)
As we drove around the city, at least four times, all mighty and proud.
The place where I sit and write this
Is where I made my best mixed tapes
And where good old Mr Grön picked me up for my first driving lession
Then proceeded to have his own afternoon napping session
The place where I sit and write this
Is where I gave my first interview
“A star was born, he’s got potential,” they said, I think
And they asked what the star liked to eat and drink
The place where I sit and write this
Is the place where the washing machines used to be
When Dad was the manager of the store
But, I’m sure you guessed it by now: the store is no more
The place where I sit and write this
Is now another coffeeshop, with cookies and latte
There’s a new building, new business where my life used to be
But they do have wireless internet, and they let me use it for free
Quantum leap
I can think of at least five meetings I’ve been invited to sit in just because I am Finnish. Not that I didn’t enjoy sitting in – I’m pretty fond of the Swedish meeting culture with the coffee and the bullar, the cinnamon buns – and not that I took it as an insult or so, I just thought it was pretty obvious to everybody that I was there just so our company could show the prospective (Finnish) client that we had intimite knowledge of Finland, and Finns. We had one sitting right there in the office. Me.
